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The Wearing Of The Green

Anonymous
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THE WEARING OF THE GREEN

Oh, Paddy dear, did you hear
The news that's going round?
The shamrock is forbid by law
To grow on Irish ground!
St. Patrick's Day no more we'll keep,
His color can't be seen,
For there's a bloomin' law against
The wearing of the green.

The wearing of the green,
Oh! The wearing of the green.
There's a bloomin' law against
the wearing of the green.

I met with Napper Tandy
And he took me by the hand,
And he said, "How's poor old Ireland
And how does she stand?"
"She's the most distressful country
That ever yet was seen;
They're hanging men and women there
For wearing of the green."

The wearing of the green,
Oh! The wearing of the green.
They're hanging men and women for
the wearing of the green.

Then since the color we must wear
Is England's cruel red,
Sure Ireland's sons will ne'er forget
The blood that they have shed.
You may take the shamrock from your hat,
And cast it on the sod,
But it'll take root and flourish still,
Tho' under foot it's trod.

The wearing of the green,
Oh! The wearing of the green.
There's a bloomin' law against
the wearing of the green.

When the law can stop the blades of green
From growing as they grow,
And when the leaves in summertime
Their verdue dare not show,
Then I will change the color that I
Wear in my caubeen;
But 'till that day, please God, I'll stick
To wearing of the green.

The wearing of the green,
Oh! The wearing of the green.
'Till that day, please God, I'll stick
To wearing of the green.

THE WEARING OF THE GREEN


I
Oh, Paddy dear and did you hear
The news that's going round?
The shamrock is by law forbid
To grow on Irish ground!
St. Patrick's Day no more we'll keep(1),
His color can't be seen,
For they're hanging men and women(2)
For wearing of the green."
II
I met with Napper Tandy(3)
And he took me by the hand,
And he said, "How's poor old Ireland
And how does she stand?"
"She's the most distressful country
That you ever I have seen;
They're hanging men and women
For wearing of the green."

CHORUS
For the wearing of the green,
Oh! The wearing of the green.
They're hanging men and women(2)
for the wearing of the green.

III
Then since the color we must wear
Is England's cruel red,
Sure Ireland's sons will ne'er forget
The blood that they have shed.
You may take the shamrock from your hat,
And cast it on the sod(4),
But it'll take root and flourish there,
Tho' under foot it's trod.
IV(5)
My father loved his country,
and sleeps within her breast,
While I that would have died for her,
may never be so blest;
Those tears my mother shed for me,
how bitter they'd have been
If I had proved a traitor
to "The wearing of the green."
V
But if, at last, her colors should
be torn from Ireland's heart
Her sons, with shame and sorrow,
from the dear old soil will part;
I've heard whispers of a land
that lies far beyond sea,
Where rich and poor stand equal,
in the light of Freedom's day!
VI
O Erin! must we leave you driven
by the tyrant's hand!
Must we ask a Mother's blessing,
in a strange but happy land,
Where the cruel Cross of England's
thralldom never to be seen:
But where, thank God! we'll live and die,
still Wearing of the Green!


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